Life and Death of Marine 01746
by FeatherInTheOcean
Summary: A story takes form in scattered snapshots. Dealing with the life and death of Marine HQ Commander Donquixote Rosinante. Third POV. Can be read as standalone oneshots. [pwp]
1. 1:Burning Bridges

Disclaimer: One Piece © Oda Eiichiro

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Chapter one: Burning Bridges

 _I want you to burn my bridges down_

 _Set me on fire._

xxxx

It was rare but it was still a pattern of Sengoku's habit. He picked up rats from the street trash and brought them over to the HQ every now and then. That was how _she_ had come there. Like all the other problem children who did the odd jobs and ran errands for the commissioned officers.

When Donquixote Rosinante was first brought in, she was mopping the floor. And he had walked right all over it with his muddy shoes, wailing like a bastard.

"Watch where yer walkin'," she growled. "Kuso gaki."

His response was to stop and blink innocently at her for a second and then continue to cry at an even higher pitch. Her expression was dark, she understood kids got scared. She was the quarantined rat nobody wanted anything to do with. Not that this eight-year-old bundle of snot and tears was any better. She raised her mop to whack him over the head.

"Hey now, you brat," Sengoku intercepted her mop attack midway, glaring at her disapprovingly. She could have squeaked. Despite the fact that she was rather openly disrespectful to him at all times, she was fairly scared of him.

"Tell the skank ta stop bawling his damned throat out," she said, scowling. "Hurts my goddamned ears."

"Language, young lady," he said.

She scowled in response. Nobody told her how to do the talking.

"Day duty again?" He asked, softening.

" _Some_ body gotta mop yer goddamned floors fer ya lot all day so yeah," she grumbled.

"Report back to the office when you're done," he said to her sternly, then turned to the bawling brat, and smiling gently, whisked him away.

Despite all the filth, the kid still looked like some goddamned prince born with a silver spoon in his mouth as he toddled away behind Sengoku. She spat. She hated it all. She hated it all to hell.

She let out her frustration as she mopped the corridors clean all the way. Finally, when it was done and she felt exhausted, she made her way to Sengoku's office slowly, loitering around. The clean air of his shiny room really made her nauseous. If she could help, she'd never go. But all things considered, she wasn't much in a position to ignore his orders. When she knocked on the door and slipped inside to stand in an invisible corner, Sengoku was still munching on his okaki as per usual and the snotty brat was placed pompously on an easy chair, nibbling on what looked like something sweet and nice.

"Gokuro," Sengoku said, gesturing for her to come forward to his table.

She stayed glued to her spot near the door for an obstinate moment.

"Come here," he said, his expression soft.

She shuffled to the front of the table. The little brat was looking pleased and even grinned at her for a moment.

"Sacha, this is Rosinante," he said, gesturing at the brat who smiled even wider. "Rosinante, this is Sacha. She is going to give you a tour around the wing."

"Ha?" She said, crass. "Why shud I do that? Ask someone 'lse ta take the rat around."

"If I remember, you're still on probation after you beat those kids black and blue." Sengoku, firm but smiling coldly at her.

"Tch," she scowled, looking at the expectant little guy. "Fine. I'll let ya trail after me. Dun get lost tho. I wun't be responsible fer that."

"Sacca," he said, innocently extending his hand to her. "Pleased to meet you."

She looked at his hand in disgust. "It's Sacha. Not Sacca. Idiot." She said, slapping his hand away.

"Sacchan?" He said, a little frown on his face, still extending the hand.

"Dun gimme weird nicknames, teme," she said, taking his hand and pulling him down from his high chair. "It's Sacha."

With that, she turned on her heel and started walking away, the dweeb dawdling behind her. At the door, she looked square at Sengoku and yelled. "Ye'd better be grateful about this, old man."

Unbeknownst to her, Sengoku softened into a smile just as the door shut behind the two kids.

"Sacchan is so tall," the kid jogged behind her to catch up as she stomped her way. "How old are you?"

"Ten." She said. "Dun talk ta me. And dun call me Sacchan."

"Eh?" He said, ignoring her glare completely. "You're ten? I'm just eight. I'll be as tall as you when I'm ten then."

"I'll be twelve then, you idiot," she said. "Still taller."

"Sacchan, where did you come from?" He asked, innocent of the stab that just dealt.

"Like I said, _don't_ call me that," she snapped, grabbing him by the collar.

The brat had hardly been smiling for a few minutes—not that it hadn't annoyed her—but as if her rough handling was some sort of trigger, he burst out into tears again. _God_ he was loud.

"H-hey look," she said, nervous. Sengoku would kill her. "L-look here, you, Rosi… whatever-kun," she dug into her pockets and produced a crumpled little candy. "I'll give you this so stop crying please."

He stopped at once, staring at the prize wide-eyed. "But it is Sacchan's." He sniffled.

"It's fine." She said, shoving it in his hands even though she had really coveted it. "Don't tell Sengoku, okay."

"Sacchan," he said, stuffing the candy in his mouth. "Your language changed."

"Ha?" She blinked at him. Wasn't the brat _sharp_! She faltered.

He just smiled and moved on, letting her trail behind.

The cursed candy became the contract she wasn't looking to sign. He attached himself to her like a constant ache in the side. He would follow her around everywhere, asking questions she didn't have answers to, questions she didn't want to answer. Above all, he was a constant obstruction to the odd jobs. If she were mopping the floor, he'd insist on helping but only end up falling clumsily all over the place and make it a long drawn job. If she went to fetch eggs, they'd end up bringing back only two or three out of a dozen eggs intact. And he _couldn't_ be left alone because his clumsiness was near fatal.

In a short while, everybody—even the bully kids of the HQ she had beat up a few times—had become friends with the clumsy little rat. He didn't make a secret out of his past life. He'd tell everyone rather openly about his Tenryuubito days, his ailing mother, his kind father, and with a volley of sobs, he'd choke out the end of it all. He got sad when he talked about his brother. He cried too easily. But when he smiled, it was the most brilliant thing one could see in the little HQ dorm for scrawny, street kids. Secretly, she thought that was how the sun shone. No wonder Sengoku fawned over him. The scaryass Marine became like a doting father in front of him and when she went to complain about Rosinante being a bother, he would always insist on her letting him tag along—of course, slipping a candy or two to appease her sometimes—which she only ended up handing over to the idiot blondie every time he cried. Sometimes, she did it to distract him.

If there was _one_ question she studiously avoided and he constantly kept on asking, it was about her past. She'd told him she was picked up from the streets by Sengoku after a brutal turf war broke out between the bandits of her town. That she had been involved as a proxy even at the age of nine and was initially meant to be put in prison. That was only half the truth though. And despite all his idiocy, the brat was _sharp_ when it came to her tactful glossing over details. He had a knack for prying into other people's business. That was her constant point of frustration. A thorn she carried inside her everywhere.

One of those clear moonless nights, way past their curfew time, when kids snored obliviously, she sneaked out to find her moment of respite. That was the first and the only time she had found Rosinante grieving silently in the stone cold lifeless gallery. He looked like a ghost, unreachable, unresponsive and impassive. He wasn't crying. He wasn't smiling. He did not even see her for a long time when she came and stood next to him.

"Do you miss your parents, Sacchan?" He asked, fixing his vacant eyes on her.

She shivered in the breeze. The eight-year -old annoying kid was suddenly a distant, aloof boy. He scared her.

"I killed my father," she said coldly. Finally.

She waited for the words to sink in. The wind howled. She shuddered. The fallen angel's eyes fixed on her.

"That bastard never even believed I was his daughter anyway." She heaved a long sigh.

"But… Sacchan," he said, eyes starting to come alive. She saw horror in them. A little bit of aversion. Disbelief.

"He beat the crap out of me every day," she said, her voice bordered on breaking. "What would you do if someone had a dagger to your throat and you could only pull the trigger to save yourself?"

She gave his horrified expression a long, hard look. _Gods_ she felt terrible. They were all twisted children of broken homes. And they had no redemption. No matter somebody kind as Sengoku had picked them up from the trash and placed them under care. Essentially, she was still a monster. With all kind of crimes and blood on her hands at a mere age of ten. But Rosinante was different. He hadn't given himself over to his demons. He was still so pure. Even a broken home and death at his feet hadn't pushed him over to the abyss of the dark. He was a gem. One that deserved so much better. One who could still find redemption.

Of course, she knew, she didn't belong there. She had long exceeded her legitimate stay. She had to move away. There was no place for her to belong. Except the streets and trash. That was where scum like her came from and that was where they'd eventually go back to. She got up, heaving a long sigh. She wanted to tell him it was nice knowing him and that she would never probably forget him. But she just zipped her mouth and started to walk away. She hoped she'd see him again someday. But he would still be the prince and she would still be the pauper. That was when she felt his arms wind around her from behind. He barely reached her shoulders but he was still trying so hard to constrain her, standing on his tiptoes, almost leaning into her from behind.

He was warm.

"But Sacchan," he said, his voice sounded of tears. "You're suffering."

She trembled, standing there in the breeze with a brat clinging to her from behind. She felt the storm coming. It broke the dams and bridges she had built over the years. And the saltwater ran down her face—eyes, nose all blocked. She cried for the first time, in a long time, for a long time. That was the first time she had let anyone see her tears. Rosinante had broken her where the whole world of brutality had failed.

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A/N: Happy New Year, folks!

The story will come up as a loose collection of oneshots so I don't have to care about the continuity of the plot. Chapters will go up and down the timeline. Not in sequence—because, random is fun. If there is at all a sequence, it'll be revealed only in the end.

Also, since this was the intro chapter, it got a little dragged out. The coming ones will be shorter and more focused on Rosinante. In the sense that his kindness made miracles.

Reviews will be a huge help. Really.

Thank you for reading.


	2. 2:Bad Blood

Disclaimer: One Piece © all rightful owners.

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Chapter two: Bad Blood

 _And I love the way you hurt me._

 _It's irresistible._

xxxx

She walked down the long passage—seemingly longer than usual. It was always musty and clammy and dark and suffocating—the underdecks of Marine ships—and yet, the chill in her bones had shivers running down her spine. She wrapped a sweaty hand around the handle, pushing it down, barely a creak. Pausing, wishing she could turn and run. That the time might stop. Instead, shoulders squared and jaw set in a clench, she walked in.

"You're later than I expected." Old woman Tsuru said in a deadpan. As if she had had an eye on her ever since she set foot on Dressrosa under Admiral Isshou's contingent. A sharp glance from the hag made her retract—almost. Sneaking away from the squad was _not_ a good idea.

"What do you take me for? After all these years if I won't know you brats like the back of my hand I won't be worth much as a Marine."

Sacha rolled her eyes. Of course. _What_ did she take her for?

"Doesn't mean I'm going to let you have your way." The old woman said, words firm as ice, as if she'd already read her mind. "Return to your squad now, no questions asked. Or I'll have to bundle you out of here and institute a disciplinary enquiry. And this time, I'll make sure you get put under Sakazuki."

Okay. Hard hitting threat. The old woman was every bit worth her salt when it came down to it. But this once—and only this once in her entire existence—she didn't give a flying rat's ass what the oldie said. Nobody could turn back time. Not even her.

"O-Tsuru-san," she said, voice low and firm. "Please. You know my reasons."

"Go back to your squad, Captain Sacha." She replied. "This is a command."

"I understand." She said, bowing low. "I shall accept the punishment. But I'm not leaving."

She stared down the adamant brat bowing defiantly. The last of the battle's clamour had died down. _Without_. But she saw a raging storm _within_ that she dared not dismiss.

"That Sengoku," she said, sighing softly, "what has he been feeding these brats? Each and every one of them—stubborn as a nail, not an ounce of discipline."

Sacha almost smiled at the triumph of her humility. All too often, her belligerence had backfired. At this point, it was no good pointing out the old Tsuru that she had been long gone out of Sengoku's custody. Why bother.

She straightened up just as the old woman walked out, leaving her alone with the prisoner shackled hands and knees down in the cell.

She turned to him. Barely curious, he had raised his head once and then dropped it again after a short look at her. Unassuming, not even half as interesting as the oldie Tsuru. And nothing of much interest in their conversation.

She stared him down for about half a minute—the tactic falling flat as the man did not even stir to look at her.

"Donquixote Doflamingo." She said, slowly, cocking her gun pointed at him. "Older brother… to Donquixote Rosinante."

He stirred a little at that, nonchalant curiosity in his eyes as they fixed on her for a longer, better look. Something about the way she spoke the last name amused him. She was afraid she had already given away too much of herself.

"Corazon?" He smirked, rather pointedly and shamelessly running his lecherous gaze up and down her form. "I see." He said. "I see. Another avenger here."

She tsked at that. That stupid kid Law—he had gone ahead and done enough already. Even this banged-up brute's sarcasm was a little edgy on that.

"I would've wished to avenge Rosinante, no doubt," she said, the name going down with a sting—like just a tiny little crack on a glass surface, "but I guess Law did enough of that already. The willful brat." She shook her head almost defeatedly.

"You don't sound much better than a willful brat yourself," he said.

"Heads and shoulders above him," she rolled her eyes. "I'm not here to take your life, Donquixote Doflamingo." Hesitation still laced the name as she spoke.

Something about the villainous smile put her off. Was he trying to provoke her into pulling the trigger? She could put the shots straight through his heart, get it over with in a jiffy. But that was not the revenge she could seek anymore.

"You're naïve, Doffy," she said, noticing only a second later she had let that name roll off her tongue. She still carried too much of Rosinante in her. "You couldn't make me hate you. _Rosinante_ never hated you."

Another long silence. Doflamingo's head rolling back, breathing a little harder as he lay flat on his back. Was he trying to stifle a laugh?

"Corazon—that bastard did everything he could to destroy me—"

"Not you, Doffy. Not you. He didn't want to _destroy_ you. He wanted to bring you back. He hated your actions, yes. But you… he never _hated_ you, Doffy." She took a deep breath. Too much of Rosinante left in her still. "He pitied you. So full of hate and rage. He just wanted to set you free. Not destroy you—that's why… he never pulled the trigger."

"He knew I'd pull the trigger." Doflamingo replied, amused for some reason. "What an idiot."

"He was always an idiot." She said, rolling her eyes. Bittersweet twinges laced her nostalgia as if going down a memory lane, reminiscing with the most unlikely person on the planet. She couldn't hate him. There was too much of Rosinante left in her and she couldn't look past it to fuel her resentments.

"I know you're ready to pull that trigger for him." He said, his eyes on the gun.

"Like I said, don't be naïve, Doffy." She said, putting the gun back in the holster. "I'm not Law. I'm way past my impressionable age. I'm not that easy to mislead and fill with hate." It was in the way he looked at her that confirmed she'd hit the bull's eye.

"But your end won't be that easy, Donquixote Doflamingo." She said, steel edge in her voice. "Even if you keep gravitating towards destruction. You won't be free. Live with the burden of the blood of your family on your hands. You'll never find justification except in your hate and rage. They'll wreck you. But _I_ will not set you free."

The low rumble from his throat took form of a loud guffaw as he cracked up. Sacha had the most rueful smile on her face as she walked out of the cell. Donquixote Doflamingo. Always headed for a crash and burn. Always a survivor.

 _The best of us can find happiness in misery_.

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A/N: It's hard to think twisted like Doffy *yawns*. Any road, next chapter will be up in a day or two. Maybe I'll put Law in that one *muses*. Maybe another one with Rosinante… hmm, let's see.

Thank you for reading.

Please leave a review.


	3. 3:Sunset Swish

Disclaimer: One Piece © Oda Eiichiro

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Chapter three: Sunset Swish

 _You and I were fire—fire—fireworks._

 _That went off too soon._

xxxx

The adults and their logic got pretty screwed up sometimes. It sucked that she and her appendage monkey couldn't stay together any longer. It had been two years since. Rosinante was now ten. She was about to turn twelve in a couple of days. And it sucked that they had picked her off from the dorms to put her on the marine rolls. Not that they were giving her any missions or the like. She still did odd jobs. Except that now it was in the women officers' dorms.

"Look, look Sacchan," the idiot came frolicking around and landed face-down on the tiles. She grabbed him by the leg just in time as he almost slid off the narrow sloped roof on the backside of Sengoku's office. That was their secret meeting spot. Not that they needed secret spots. It had just become the way it had.

"—ttaku… no, I meant. Please… be careful of where you step, Rosinante-kun," she said, smiling sweetly, "You hurt yourself all too often."

"Sacchan?" He cocked his head to a side, confused. "You are Sacchan, ne?"

"Is it not obvious?" She said, still smiling. "Why must you pose such an enquiry?"

"Why are you talking like an old man, Sacchan?" He said, head still cocked, eyebrows raised.

"Ha? Old man?" She snapped. "Teme. I was tryna be nice, ya know?"

"Hahaha, Sacchan," he laughed, almost falling over again, "thank goodness."

"Shaddup," she fumed. "Kuso. An' I was tryin' so danged hard too. All day long."

"But why, Sacchan?" He asked, still giggling.

"Tch. Dun giggle lika freak, you idiot," she said, embarrassed. "I've gotta improve da way I talk. Since I'm a girl."

"Eh?" He looked at her innocently. "Why?"

"They make an awful lota noise 'bout it back there," she grumbled. "The hags in the dorms."

"I thought they were all nice ladies." He said, bemused.

"That's what. They _are_ all nice ladies. And they go ballistic over my tongue." She sighed. "I gotta work hard. Otherwise…"

"Afterall," the monkey said, grinning, "Sacchan _is_ acting weird."

"Shut up and eat your darned onigiri, mountain monkey," she said, thrusting a messy pack of badly shaped onigiri at him. She was still learning that stuff. She watched him devour his share hungrily. Of late, he was always complaining about being hungry all the time. His height was skyrocketing. Probably what they called a growth spurt. He'd be a head taller than her pretty soon. She felt a sense of loss at that. The monkey would be older soon. When did it become so uncool to hang with him that they started sneaking around? She missed the idiot already.

"Sacchan, if it weren't for you," he said in between bites. "I'd be starving every day."

"Like I said, why doncha ask fer seconds in the mess?" She rolled her eyes.

"But I like Sacchan's onigiri here in the evening," he said. "I'm lonely without Sacchan already."

"Ya really dun get embarrassed at all, do ya, idiot?" She said, heat rising to her cheeks. "I've only just shifted dorms right."

"But it's different if we don't live together, Sacchan," he said, huge innocent eyes boring into her.

"Then… I'll have you be my bride when we grow up," she said, mischievous smirk on her face. "How about it?"

"That's not gonna happen, Sacchan." He said, focus all on the onigiri.

"Eh? Ah~ of course, idiot. I was just kidding, y'know." She laughed, embarrassed.

"Because Sacchan is a girl right? And she makes really amazing onigiri." He said, a serious smile on his face. "So you'll have to be the wife."

Sacha hadn't imagined the little mountain monkey could ever say some such embarrassing things with such a straight face. But then, he was still just ten. He couldn't comprehend things he said. She really wanted to wait for the day he'd grow up and realize his words and be embarrassed for an eternity.

"Shut up and eat your onigiri." She said, smiling like an imp. The pink tinge of the sunset camouflaged the red in her face. She should have been thankful for that.

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A/N: meh, idiot chapter. I'm just building the story though. Next will feature Law *-* tabun.

Thank you for reading.


	4. 4:After Ashes

1 One Piece © Oda Eiichiro

2 Weight of Living Part I- Bastille

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Chapter four: After Ashes

 _Your albatross, let it go, let it go._

 _Your albatross, shoot it down, shoot it down._

 _When you just can't shake the heavy weight of living._

xxxx

Sabaody Archipelago—breeding ground for vermin like the one she was after that day. She lit her fifth cigarette of the day, the newspaper spread in front of her—even though she barely glanced at it twice—it was a good camouflage shield. Across from the little café table, she fixed her eyes upon the road coming up from the port.

There he was. Walking so stooped, as if he carried the burden of the world on his shoulders. His eyes darted around once in a while, then he went back to staring holes into the ground. She did not like the look in his eyes.

"Surgeon of Death, huh?" She muttered to herself, a pang of sadness leaked into her eyes. The Heart Pirates… after all it was all too ironic to excite a laugh of dark humour.

She continued to observe nonchalantly in the background. One moment there was the dark, brooding look on his face—the next moment, as he looked back at the crewmates hustling behind to catch up to him, something of a light flitted past his expression. There was Bepo, the polar bear. And the two twinsy-hat guys—Penguin and Shachi. She had done all her Marine research on them. Despite Sengoku—who had done everything possible to make life hard for this rookie pirate in hopes of deterrence.

She was too far away to catch any part of the conversation but what she did catch was the relief of a brief moment as he smiled at what might probably have been a joke from the Bear. For a moment there, he looked so much younger. Like somebody had just picked up the weight of living off his shoulders. She saw the sun in his eyes. Just as he walked away, his steps: just a little bit lighter, his spine: a little straighter.

She put out the cigarette on the table top, getting up with a heavy sigh. After all, things really just didn't feel right without the Marine uniform. But her task could not be said to be authorized. She had to take the route of doing things in her personal capacity first.

At least in so far as she was being a stalker, she consoled herself on the fact that the Marine uniform would have given her away. She traced him back downtown, his fellow pirates all gone on to their own errands. She trailed behind, summoning her courage one final time just as he entered a deserted alley. Of course, she hadn't been the most inconspicuous stalker in the Grand Line history. He flipped around, his sword half out of the sheath, glaring daggers of doubt at her just as she stepped in after him.

And boy did that push her buttons! She was not just some girl to be cringing at the dagger glare he shot her. She stood coolly, smirking back at him.

"Trafalgar D Water Law," she said, pausing to witness the effect as it sunk in.

"How do you know that?" He narrowed his eyes at her, drawing his sword out.

"Doesn't really concern you much, child of Flevance," she said, her grim smile widening as she saw her success in provoking him. She raised her hands up in surrender. "I come in peace." She said, the glint in her eyes suggesting otherwise. "Just here to warn you to give up on your futile pursuit."

"What do you mean?" He said coldly.

"You know exactly what, Trafalgar D Water Law," she emphasised. "Give up on Donquixote Doflamingo and we'll settle that there." She saw his knuckles turn white as his grip on the sword's hilt tightened. She took out her katana in a menacingly slow gesture. It had worked exactly as she had thought. The fact that she casually threw in every secret he had been keeping went down with the presupposed effect.

"Leave Doffy alone," she said, putting all the effort of a nail in the coffin as she glared menacingly at him. "Don't get misguided about your revenge for Rosinante."

His sword was up for one second, then something changed in his expression and suddenly it went calm with a recognition.

"Who are you?" He asked, eyes still narrow.

"Like I said, doesn't concern you," she said, although something about his sudden change of demeanour threatened to drive her to a wall. "Just heed the warning. Leave Doffy alone."

"You're not from the Donquixote family, are you?" He said, calmly, putting his sword back in the scabbard.

"I'm not obliged to answer that." She said, blinking. Things had… gone awry.

"Who _are_ you?" He asked again.

"I… am not obliged to answer that," she said again. She was cornered. The kid was sharp.

"You called Cora-san Rosinante." He said, matter-of-factly.

"I… meant Cora-san… zon—Corazon," she stuttered, perfectly aware that this wasn't helping her case.

"Could it be that…" he gave her a long, hard look, "maybe… are you—Sassan?"

"Sassan… huh?" She rolled her eyes without meaning to. She had a goddamned name that they _could_ use. "Well… the cat's out of the bag anyway." She sighed, putting her sword back in the sheath. Keeping that dark expression in place had exhausted more energy than she had hoped. The lines of malice melted away into a minutely warm smile. She hadn't really expected her first encounter with the cursed child to be like this. Rosinante wouldn't have approved. But then, at least she'd _tried_.

"It's Sacha." She corrected him half-heartedly. "Did Rosinante talk about me an awful lot?"

"Only sometimes. Other times, I ended up eavesdropping on the Den-Den-Mushi," he grinned, the grin of a child found guilty of some petty notoriety.

"You're so much like I heard about you," she said, a hint of doting in her tone. "Law, I'm begging you. Don't go after Doffy."

"You don't want to say that, Sassan…" he said, his expression back to cold. "You, more than anyone else, want it."

"Law, that's why, listen to me," she said, defeated, "don't. Rosinante wanted you to be free. Don't be ungrateful to the life he lost to preserve yours. Don't throw it away."

"You don't believe a word you're saying," he scowled, turning his back to her.

"You never walked to your freedom, did you, Law?" She sighed, closing the distance between them and hugging him from behind.

"Then tell me, what does it mean to be free, Sassan?" He said, his back stiff against the trembling older woman.

"I… guess I don't know." She murmured. "But… you're suffering, Law." What was she doing, clinging to the back of this kid for support? Maybe, she thought she could change his life with the kind of gesture Rosinante had made towards her back in the buried time of their childhood. But she was no Rosinante after all. She failed the conviction of her own words. How could either of them be free from what they had lost?

She unwrapped her arms from around him, giving his back a little push.

"Go, Law," she said, her smile cloudy, "the next time I meet you, I'll come as a Marine. And then I'll stop you no matter what the cost."

He nodded at her, his features tough. The sun in his eyes that she had barely seen for a few seconds was clouded over. Gone. She saw only the darkness of a weight they each carried but could not share. She had failed at the one wish Rosinante had left in his legacy. She had just let Law walk back into the birdcage.

But then, she was no Rosinante after all.

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A/N: *cries* I'm sorry. Despite the fact that I love baby Law, this chapter sucked.


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